Letter

There’s nothing better, homier or more comforting than coming home from a loooong day and curling up in front of my TV.
February 17, 2011 at 3:51 am

I’m in love. I’m hopelessly, maddeningly in love with a tin box on 38th Street. What holds grip of my heart, you ask?
February 16, 2011 at 1:21 pm

The stretch of Spruce from 40th to 41st Street is a black hole. I've walked down this block at least once a day over the past year and a half and I’ve learned a thing or two.
February 10, 2011 at 4:28 am

Last Wednesday night, we all prayed for a snow day. Whenever shrieks were heard over intercoms and through hallways, someone would jump and dial 898–MELT.
February 3, 2011 at 2:17 am

There’s that scene in (admittedly, my favorite movie) Can’t Hardly Wait when a few tech geeks surround a computer and wait desperately for Internet porn to load.
January 27, 2011 at 2:57 am

I’m a sentimental, sappy, bear your soul in an '80s love song kind of girl. I hate to admit it and despite donning a coffee–drinking sarcastic shell, I’m really just made up of unicorns, hearts and bubble letters. That being said, one might easily anticipate my reaction to the abroaders’ epic homecoming.
January 20, 2011 at 12:34 am

Disclaimer: This letter, this one right here, has been particularly difficult to write. In fact, even amidst all the term papers and stupid class blog posts and application essays, I've never dreaded writing something more. I set out, at the beginning of Thanksgiving Break, determined to compose the best last "From The Editor" to ever grace the pages of any publication — bold and poignant and touching and smart.
December 2, 2010 at 4:05 am

In a city where the cloud cover is often low and diffuse, yesterday’s sky of lofty, slow–moving and almost–purple clouds was a welcome change.
November 18, 2010 at 3:20 am

I feel drugged. Really, on a cloud, different–than–drunk, numb–to–the–world, drugged. And, as someone who (believe it or not) hasn't ever touched a drug beyond the Benadryl and Epinephrin required by a severe allergy to peanuts, I have to say — it's quite a fascinating state of being. This past week seems like a blur.
November 11, 2010 at 3:19 am

I was innocently sitting in my bed, procrastinating by reading an article on New York Magazine's Vulture about the female characters in Boardwalk Empire (I haven't managed to get through a single episode on On Demand yet). "…when women were more likely to be thought of as sex objects or mothers than equals…" Click.
November 4, 2010 at 3:54 am

Ohhh, Wawa Coke ICEE. It doesn't take a lot to make me happy. Really, all it usually takes is 22 ounces of you — or 32 ounces, if Wawa is out of the small bubble lids or it's icky and misty out.
November 2, 2010 at 10:50 pm

At around 5 a.m. on a particularly late night in architecture studio this past week, I deliriously announced to a room of several other archi–geeks, “I think it’s better in life to be silly and happy when on the brink of exhaustion than to be sad and cranky.” One responded, not so jokingly, “It’s only when you get silly and happy that we get cranky.” After nearly two and a half years of all–nighters together, the seniors in the architecture major are particularly close.
October 28, 2010 at 2:42 am

Dear Penn: you are a bunch of very forward–happy people. If we over at Street wanted to really, truly print a life–wrecking, gossip–inducing, controversial article, all we'd have to do is copy and paste half of the emails I’m regularly forwarded directly into Highbrow's Gutter.
October 21, 2010 at 3:14 am

Back in the days of AIM, my friend and I had a code. If I ever IMed him something sarcastic, I would alternate the case of the letters so as to make my tone absolutely clear; ‘I absolutely can’t wait for practice’ became ‘I aBSOlutELY cAN’t WAit fOR prACTicE.’ Maybe he was a tad behind in his ability to detect cynicism (he ended up at Princeton, after all), but the difference between how I write online or on my phone and how I write in Street or for papers has only grown since getting a BlackBerry and becoming obsessed with GChat. I’m not talking about abbreviations like ‘ur’ and ‘tho’ and ‘c u’ (So 2000!
October 14, 2010 at 3:47 am

As a GRITS (that's Girl Raised In The South, obviously), sometimes it's hard living up here in cloudy, cold Philadelphia.
September 30, 2010 at 4:40 am

You'd think. As a College student who splits her time between the architecture studio and the office of the arts and culture weekly you’re currently holding, you’d think I’d be able to avoid all of this OCR hullabaloo.
September 23, 2010 at 6:31 am

Transfer kids are everywhere. You know, those kids that join us from other institutions sophomore or junior year and complain every time you make too many references to the quad or freshman year NSO?
September 16, 2010 at 5:08 am

I’ve spent the vast majority of this semester’s “From the Editor” letters complaining about how fast time moves.
April 22, 2010 at 3:44 am

I have recently decided that the trials and tribulations of college can be boiled down to one question: to go out, or to do work? It seems simple.
April 15, 2010 at 2:53 am

Here at the Street office, we have something called the time suck. It’s from 10 p. m. to 2 a.m., and within it, time simply disappears.
April 8, 2010 at 3:26 am